


Surviving a Sh!t Holiday

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anathema's dad is a judgemental asshole, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Celebrating an American Holiday, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, F/M, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Anathema wants to treat her friends to an American tradition. It goes about as well as many family get togethers do.I originally posted this story Thanksgiving Day of 2020, but have since deleted my old AO3 account and am reposting all my old stories under this new account.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Surviving a Sh!t Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in a universe where COVID has never happened.<3

In the dark bedroom of a Mayfair flat, a demon sleeps beneath a warm, black duvet, dreaming of blue eyes and platinum, fairy floss hair. Wrapped within his spindly arms is the subject of his dreams, also asleep and dreaming of all the culinary delights he will be consuming mere hours after he wakes.

It’s been just over three months since they had stopped Armageddon. Or more accurately, given Adam Young the pep talk that solidified the decision the child had already made for himself.

Aziraphale and Crowley had made new, yet lasting friendships that day and had strengthened an old one. That is if Aziraphale could call Shadwell a friend before that day on the airfield’s tarmac. The crazy old witchfinder had been a business associate to both angel and demon but has always treated Crowley with much more respect. In fact, Shadwell had, on multiple occasions, been downright derogatory towards Aziraphale.

Crowley begins to stir first, which is less uncommon than either of them would have thought. He loves his sleep, but he tends to sleep more when he’s sad or troubled, and the demon has rarely been either since they'd save the world.

It had been outside the Ritz on that Sunday that Crowley’s new world truly began. Aziraphale had taken his hand as they stood on the sidewalk in front of the opulent restaurant. He had pulled Crowley into his arms and kissed the demon for all the world to see.

That evening Crowley had built up the nerve to tell his Angel “I love you” and Aziraphale professed the same in turn. The two of them rarely separate since

They don’t yet live together, although Crowley daydreams of a cottage by the sea. In fact, he may be guilty of sifting through the listings of such properties for sale. He'd never tell Aziraphale, not until the angel asks him first. The last thing Crowley wants is to hear the love of his life call him ‘too fast’ again.

They now spend many nights and mornings just like this, however. Some in the book shop on the sofa, many more in this flat, seeing that Crowley has a bed. They make love and kiss freely, sharing gentle words and even gentler caresses and Crowley feels that life has never been more perfect.

Crowley could have never before imagined just how perfectly they match up in the physical aspect. The two of them are both highly emotional creatures and their bonding is only wanted or satisfactory when those emotions are fully expressed and felt.

This is the demon’s ultimate bliss, waking each morning with Aziraphale, warm, soft and safe in his arms. If this right here, right now was all he could ever again be entitled to from the angel, Satan help him, it was more than enough.

Crowley can see the light outlining his black curtains and buries his nose in Aziraphale’s curls, hugging the angel just a bit tighter. Soon they will leave this sanctuary to start another odd adventure. This one devoid of Heaven and Hell, although the anti-Christ has been invited to make an appearance. No, this adventure will involve a small cottage, a tiny group of Americans, a group of Brits who have allowed themselves to be thrust into an American tradition and an angel and a demon in a similar boat to the Brits.

“I didn’t know snakes could feel so warm.” Aziraphale rolls in Crowley’s arms to face him. He kisses his demon before snuggling into his thin chest. “Good morning, love.”

“Good morning, Angel.” Crowley cradles Aziraphale’s head with one hand and slides the other along the angel’s spine. “You ready to start the day?”

“Hmmmmmm. Yes. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since Anathema invited us.” Aziraphale’s breath tickles Crowley’s bare chest.

“Does seem like something you’d enjoy.” Crowley presses his lips to Aziraphale’s head. “I just hope Book Girl’s family members are as pleasant as Book Girl. I’ve heard these gatherings can turn into a real shit show.”

“Language, Crowley.” Aziraphale taps the demon’s arm playfully. “You’ll need to be aware of the things you say today. There will be young children present.”

“You know, scientific studies have found that people who curse a lot are believed to be more articulate and emotionally intelligent than those who don’t.” Crowley smirks.

“You made that up.” Aziraphale pulls his head back, blue eyes looking over the demon’s face suspiciously.

“Did not. I read it.”

“You don’t read.”

“I read all the time.”

“I never see you with a book.”

“I’m sly like that.”

“Did you read this on the internet?”

“I don’t need to give you that information.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” The angel giggles and moves from Crowley’s embrace. “More than anything, but right now we need to get up and get ready.”

* * *

“I’m thankful that it is such a warm day for November.” Aziraphale white knuckle grips the tin of iced biscuits in his lap as the Bentley whizzes down the country road. “I have a suspicion this gathering will need to be held outside. Jasmine Cottage is so small.”

“You call this warm?” Crowley waves a hand grandly towards the windscreen. “It’s only 18 degrees. I’m gonna freeze my ass off.”

“You don’t need your ass if you don’t want it.” Aziraphale grins triumphantly at Crowley’s opened mouth double-take.

“You like my ass!”

“Never said I didn’t. I merely said you don’t need it if you don’t want it, and if you hide it, it can’t freeze off.” Aziraphale titters his head smugly.

“People might ask where you’ve gone.” The corner of Crowley’s lip upturns mischievously.

“What, my dear, are you insinuating?” The angel sits up a bit taller and turns to face his demon, eyebrows raised.

“Why, nothing darling, dear, angel of mine.”

“If you weren’t currently at the helm of this death trap, you might have found yourself smitten at such a remark.”

Crowley reaches across the bench seat and takes the angel’s right hand from where it’s clenched on the tartan tin. He lifts Aziraphale’s soft digits to his lips, placing reverent kisses to his lover’s knuckles. “Ass or not Angel, I’ve been smitten for 6000 years.”

* * *

An hour after their departure from London, Crowley parks the Bentley not far from the gate of Jasmine Cottage. Crowley exits the vehicle first and quickly rounds it to open Aziraphale’s door. He offers a hand to help his Angel to his feet, before popping the boot and collecting the food offerings he and Aziraphale have brought.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” Newt announces much too closely to an unsuspecting Crowley, resulting in the demon smacking the back of his head against the boot’s hatch.

“Pulsssssifer.” Crowley hisses, flicking out his forked tongue and rubbing his injury. “You know, it’sss dangerousss to sssneak up on a sssnake.”

“Please tell me he’s not going to do that in front of Anathema’s parents.” Newt looks to Aziraphale. “Don’t think it would phase Anathema’s mother.” He lowers his voice. “But her father is a right dick.” This time he turns his pleading eyes on Crowley. “Please don’t overreact if he says something offensive.”

Crowley nods as he closes the boot, his free arm balancing a casserole. They all remember the first and last time Shadwell had made the mistake of mocking Aziraphale in the demon’s presence.

“Oh, dear boy, it takes much more than a nasty attitude to ruffle my feathers.” Aziraphale waves his hand toward Crowley. “Have you not noticed my choice of partner?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Crowley winks and opens the gate, allowing the trio access to the path to Ms. Device’s home.

“I’m not going to be able to enter this way.” Crowley pauses a few meters from the front step. Newt stops in the open door, Aziraphale behind him. Both angel and human look him over confused until Crowley gestures to the horseshoe hanging above the entry. “She’s got wards up to keep my kind out.”

“What kind is that?” Comes a male voice from the demon’s left. Crowley shifts to face a man, early sixties, strong build, with salt-and-pepper hair and grey eyes. Those same eyes travel the length of Crowley’s body and the stranger gives a look conveying obvious disapproval of what he sees.

“Please don’t.” Newt’s voice is a barely audible whine.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Aziraphale hurries to step between his demon and the new arrival. “We’re friends of Anathema’s from the city. Am I correct in assuming you’re her father?”

“I am.” At the sight of Aziraphale the man noticeably relaxes, his face breaking into a genuine smile. He offers his hand to the angel in greeting. “Julian Device. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr..?”

“Ah, Fell.” Aziraphale takes the offered hand and shakes. “Azira Fell.”

Crowley snorts before given the chance to think. He and his angel had discussed what first name he might go by with the humans who were unaware of his origin. Aziraphale’s choice was clever, but also ridiculous in its own way.

Julian’s smile falls, he glances in disdain at the demon. “And you? How do you know my daughter?”

“This is my partner.” Aziraphale states primly, cutting Crowley off from speaking. “Anthony Crowley.”

“And what business are you in, Mr. Fell?” This time Julian holds his features a bit more stern as he addresses Aziraphale.

“I’m a bookshop owner, I sell, trade and buy very rare and much sought after first editions and rare antiquated tomes.” The angel puffs his chest out proudly.

“A business man and a man of taste.” Julian looks pleased again with the blond before turning a wary eye to the redhead. “You don’t look like much of a book afficionado, Mr. Crowley.”

“I’m not.” Crowley doesn’t much care for this wanker, and his surly attitude drips into his voice. “I’m Azira’s life partner, not business partner.”

Crowley expects some sort of homophobic remark, the man seems the type. Instead Julian pales and looks to Aziraphale with concern. “How very nice to meet both of you. Azira. May I call you Azira?”

“You may, but only if I may call you Julian.” Aziraphale smiles brightly, and the dark part of Crowley rears back. Something isn’t right about Anathema’s father. Crowley doesn’t trust him a single iota.

“Lovely.” Julian beams as if trying to compete with the angel. In Crowley’s opinion, the prick loses miserably. “I too am a businessman. I collect and sell antiques and expensive artifacts from around the world. What are the chances you and I could find time to talk shop?” His gaze flickers briefly to Crowley before focusing fully on Aziraphale. “Alone?”

“Perhaps in a bit.” Aziraphale winds his arm around Crowley’s and leans into the demon’s body. “First I would like for Cr- Anthony and I to greet our hostess and make our rounds with the other guests. Is there another way inside? Anthony is terribly allergic to one of the plants growing near this front entryway. I would hate for him to have a reaction.”

“The only other guest is my ex-wife.” Julian pulls a displeased face. “But we’ll go through the back. This way.”

“Sorry.” Newt whispers stepping close to the demon. “But bonus, doesn’t look like you’ll need to defend Aziraphale.”

“Lucky me.” Crowley growls.

Anathema greets them as they step through the back door and into the small kitchen. Newt whispers in her ear and she blushes, laying her hands on each of the supernatural beings’ arms. “I’m so sorry about the horseshoe. You just don’t seem evil to me Crowley, so I never thought.”

“It’s fine.” He leans into his angel as Aziraphale plants a quick kiss to his temple and hurries to follow Newt and Julian into the dining room. Once the three are out of ear shot, Crowley drops his voice. “Do I need to be concerned about your father’s intentions?”

“What d’you mean?” The witch tilts her head.

“Well, when he first saw me, he looked me over like I was dog shit on his favorite shoes. Then Aziraphale spoke and he lit up like a blessed sun.” Crowley bites his lip, trying not to insult his host, knowing that doing so would upset Aziraphale. “Thought he was going to come off with some slur about mine and the angel’s relationship when Aziraphale introduced me as his partner. Instead it’s like he’s trying everything in his power to get Aziraphale alone. So, do I?”

“If you’re asking if my dad is trying to steal your boyfriend, the answer is no.” Anathema begins to busy herself at the stove. “But he might very well be trying to separate you. He’s been doing Newt and me the same.”

“Why?” Crowley asks and then clamps his mouth shut when he notices a beautiful dark-haired woman in the doorway dividing the kitchen and dining room.

“Don’t stop talking on my account.” The woman leans against the counter opposite the duo. “I know what an asshole my ex is.”

“Crowley, this is my mom, Elena.” Anathema waves her hand towards the woman. “Mom, this is Anthony Crowley.”

“Azira’s your other half?” She shakes his hand. “Beautiful catch on your part. The man looks like an angel.”

“He is.” Crowley smirks and catches Anathema do the same from the corner of his eye.

“So, Anthony, if you haven’t noticed, your Azira is a healthy build, dresses well, if not a bit dated, and gives off the air of someone who has money. Yes?” Elena returns to her post against the counter and crosses her arms.

“Yeah.” Crowley leans against the opposite wall, mirroring her body language.

“And you.” Elena tilts her head, scanning him from head to feet. “Give off the lean, sex-toy, play-boy feel.”

“Thank you.” The demon raises an eyebrow, not entirely sure where this is going.

“She’s not complimenting you.” Anathema sighs, throwing a glare to her mother. “She’s objectifying you.”

“I am not.” Elena rolls her eyes. “I’m making a point. My ex sees your partner as an equal, same as he does his daughter and me. But you and Newt he sees as leeches only using those equals for monetary gain.”

“He thinks I’m only with Aziraphale for money?”

“He hasn’t said anything of the sort yet, but that is his assumption with me and Anathema.” Crowley jumps at Newt’s sudden appearance. How is it this bunch of humans can move so sodding quietly? “They’re in there talking food right now.”

“Where are the other guests?” Crowley decides to change the subject. “I thought you were inviting the entire Armageddon crew.”

“I knew it!” Elena claps her hands, and Crowley is ready to go full demon on the next human who decides to startle him. “These are people you met when tracking down the beast.” Her eyes go wide. “You said your partner is an angel.”

“Don’t look into it too deep mom.” Anathema pulls the turkey out of the oven and checks it before sliding it back in. As a side note she murmurs “Another thirty minutes.”

“Are you an angel too?” Elena places her hands in a prayer like formation over her lips.

“Same stock, different political affiliation.” Crowley lifts his shades to show his serpentine eyes and winks. “Anyway, anti-christ, his little gang, the witch-finder and his medium. Where are they?”

“This is great!” Elena practically squeals.

“Adam and his friends can’t come, their parents won’t allow it.” Newt moves to the cupboard and begins to take out the plates. “My mother stayed at home, said the idea of this gathering made her nervous, and besides, she doesn’t own a vehicle of her own. Told me not to go out of my way to fetch her, that she’d entertain us over Christmas. And Marjorie called saying Shadwell isn’t well and they wouldn’t be able to attend. All while the sergeant had a tirade in the background about his distrust of Americans.”

“Yes, from what I could hear, we’re all a bunch of devil worshiping harlots and thieves.” Elena laughs. “Can you imagine what it would have been like to have that man and Julian in the same room?”

A collective shudder spreads throughout the kitchen.

* * *

Aziraphale finds Julian Device to be more than a bit abrasive, but he’s forcing himself to be polite for Anathema’s sake. The angel must admit he is pleased at how quickly he turned the angry man’s attention from his Crowley, before Julian made the mistake of insulting the demon. If that had happened, Aziraphale would have been forced to throw all semblance of politeness out the window.

“So, your fella’s more comfortable in the kitchen with the ladies, is he?” Julian leans back in his chair. The pair having taken seats in the two large wingbacks in the sitting room.

 _No, he’s just not comfortable around you._ Aziraphale thinks, deciding it’s best not to express this sentiment out loud. “Anthony is merely giving me the space I need to discuss business matters and interests with a like-minded man. But I will say he is rather fond of your daughter, the two of them sharing an interest in the occult.”

“I’m sure he is.” Julian rests his elbow on the plush arm of the chair and props his head in his hand. “Got to admit, I thought Newt was an issue until I met your young man. At least Newt is clean.”

“Forgive me, but what do you mean by clean?”

“Please Azira.” Julian looks at him with a patronizing type of pity. “I’ve known your Anthony for less than a half hour, and I can already tell what sort of man he is.”

Aziraphale is absolutely appalled by the human setting across from him. “I’ll have you know, I have known Anthony Crowley for an eternity, and someone as closed-minded as you could never begin to comprehend the amazing being hidden behind those dark clothes and shades.”

“I’ve been there friend.” Julian lifts his head and shifts his body forward. “I know what it’s like to be fooled by the pretty ones, the exciting ones, but even you have to be aware he’s most likely using you to support his habit.”

“I think you need to stop talking, before I say something that I’ll regret.” Aziraphale turns his head to stare out the window into the front lawn.

“Is there a chance you’re also interested in women?”

Aziraphale’s mouth goes slack, his head whips around to look at this despicable man. “What would that matter?”

“Hear me out.” Julian holds his hands palms forward. “Newt is only here for my daughter’s money. He says he loves her, but I know the type. Sniveling little nobody, unable to hold a real job.” He points an index finger at Aziraphale. “It’s very clear that you too are a man from a family of wealth, that Anthony is clinging to you for the same reasons. Instead of allowing these leeches, societal parasites if you will, to continue to feed on you, have you ever considered dating one of your own?”

“One of my own?” Aziraphale bristles at the all too familiar sentiment. The idea that Crowley is something different from himself.

“My daughter is quite the catch and the combination of two families of old money is never a bad decision.”

The angel pushes himself to his feet and straightens his waistcoat. “If you’ll excuse me sir, I’d like to get some fresh air before my meal.”

And with that, Aziraphale storms from the room.

* * *

“We’re leaving.” Crowley jumps at Aziraphale’s sudden appearance and loud proclamation. “I’m ever so sorry, Anathema dear, but I refuse to stay here any longer with that beast of a man.”

“What?” The young witch straightens after removing a pie from her oven. “The meal will be served in less than 10 minutes.”

“I’d prefer not to discuss what has caused my offense.” Aziraphale wraps a protective arm around Crowley’s waist. “And I hope you can forgive me for what I’m about to say, but if you truly love Newt, you should reprimand your father for his hateful assumptions.”

Crowley doesn’t miss the way Newt flushes and drops his eyes to the floor. Anathema looks to her young lover and then back to the flustered angel. “I never see the man but once a year. You can’t actually expect me to fight with him while he’s here.”

“So, you would just happily agree with the nonsense he’s spouting?” Aziraphale sputters.

“Shhhh, Angel.” Crowley whispers in his ear. “No need to upset our friend.”

“Did you know your father asked me to consider breaking things off with Crowley, and instead court you?” Aziraphale stares at Anathema, completely ignoring his demon’s request.

“He did what now?!” The pie in Anathema’s hand clatters to the counter.

“According to the daft bastard, Crowley and Newton are only using us for our wealth, and the both of us should stick with our _’own kind.’_ ”

“Oh, God.” Anathema runs her hands over her face. “Look, I’m sorry Aziraphale, but he’s my father. You can leave if you want, but I need to tolerate his nonsense until Saturday and then I won’t see him for another year.”

Crowley catches Newt’s eyes and the human gives him a defeated shrug. The demon knows that look. It’s the look of someone who is prepared to face any level of abuse or pain in order to continue to maintain a place at the side of the being they love. In this moment Crowley develops a newfound understanding and respect for the former witch-finder.

“Help me carry the last of these dishes to the dining room.” Anathema demands and Newt swiftly complies.

“If all he did was insult me Dove, just ignore it.” Crowley presses his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek. “I’m thick skinned, his words can’t hurt me.”

“I’m sorry.” Elena says softly. “He’s my ex for a reason.”

“Are all Thanksgiving celebrations this catastrophically horrible?” Aziraphale asks, his head dropping against Crowley’s shoulder.

“A lot of times yes.”

Crowley scoffs. “What a right shit holiday.”

* * *

It had taken a bit of coaxing, but Crowley had been able to tempt Aziraphale into staying through the meal. All they need to do is smile and ignore whatever nonsense Julian decides to spew. The other guests are so lovely, surely his angel can ignore the ramblings of one asshole.

Crowley gives their hostess an apologetic smile as he pulls Aziraphale’s chair out and helps his angel to set. He’s relieved to see Anathema’s expression has softened and Aziraphale pats his hand in thanks.

“Everything looks wonderful.” Aziraphale takes in the spread before him. “I must say, I’ve always been interested in learning of new traditions.”

The first item, a bowl of mashed potatoes, starts the rounds among the guests counter-clockwise. Other dishes follow close behind. Julian watches Crowley with an uncomfortable intensity, eyes trained on the demon’s dark shades.

“Thank you. I Just hope you enjoy.” Anathema gives the angel a gentle grin. She waits until everyone has their plates settled and the passing of food has ended. “Before we start, we should all say what we’re thankful for. I’m thankful for all those at my table today and the ways they’ve helped to make my life better and more fulfilled.”

“I’m thankful for Anathema and the world we get to wake up in every morning.” Newt looks to the woman at his side, and Crowley can’t believe how anyone could doubt the young man’s love for the witch. One doesn’t need to be capable of sensing love to see how it floods from him when he looks to her.

“Not much on your plate, Mr. Crowley.” Julian crosses his arms over his chest. “You take any medication to kill your appetite? Because you could stand to gain some weight.”

Crowley doesn’t respond. Instead he takes his angel’s hand and squeezes hoping Aziraphale understands what’s being asked of him.

Elena clears her throat. “I’m thankful to be here with my daughter and to know she’s found someone as sweet and kind as Newt.” She smiles at her daughter’s beau.

Julian turns his gaze from Crowley and gives Newt the same scrutinizing glare. “Funny how he can fall so madly in love with someone he’s only known for three months. One might think there were some sort of other motivation behind it.”

“I’m thankful for love.” Aziraphale breaks in curtly. “Love of all kinds and shapes. Love that builds over a lifetime of shared experiences.” He lifts Crowley’s hand to his lips and leaves a kiss on the knuckles. “And love that blossoms quickly and strong.” The angel looks to Anathema and Newt with tender eyes and a soft smile. “Love that is willing to stand up against judgement and hate of all sorts.”

“It’s rude to wear shades at the dinner table.” Julian’s attention has returned to the demon across from him. “You hiding something? Heard a lot of drug addicts don’t eat much and their eyes are noticeably bloodshot.”

“I’m also thankful for love.” Crowley tilts his head a strained smile crossing his face. “And for beautiful, strong, bastard guardian angels who I know have my back even when the best option is to not step in on my behalf.”

“That’s not an answer, Mr. Crowley.” Julian leans his elbows on the table. “Are you high right now?”

“Dad, stop.” Anathema sounds smaller than Crowley ever thought imaginable. “Leave them alone. They’re good people.”

“You don’t know good people.” Julian snaps at his daughter. “You’ve constantly surrounded yourself with this sort of riff-raff. People below our station.”

“Listen mate.” Crowley keeps his tone steady and calm. “You’re more than welcome to insult me all you like.“ The demon gestures to Newt. “But he is a good man, and he doesn’t need your abuse. He’s suffered enough of it in his life.”

“Oh, the old con-man sticking up for the baby.” Julian’s nostrils flare. “How long you been milking naïve Azira here? Ten, twenty, thirty years? He said he’s known you a lifetime. How’d you string him along for such a long period of time?”

“Don’t, Angel.” Crowley whispers when he feels Aziraphale tense. A bit louder to Julian, he says. “I fell in love with Aziraphale within three minutes of our first conversation. He had just given away something rare and priceless to someone in order to keep them afloat and I was gone.”

“So, he was an easy target?”

“Dad don’t push him.”

“Shush, Anathema.” Julian doesn’t even look to her while he speaks. Crowley stifles a laugh that this human actually means to intimidate him. “I mean if he’s stupid enough to give something away to a stranger, how much could you get out of him by convincing him you love him?”

“He’s not stupid.” Crowley forgets his rule about keeping the peace. “He’s clever, kind and beyond gorgeous. And I think it would be in your best interest to watch your tongue when speaking of him.”

“You’re good.” Julian looks from Crowley to Aziraphale. “You believe all this? I mean, you seem like a great guy, but what are you really offering but money?”

Crowley emits a low hiss. “He’sssss my whole fucking world, arssssehole. That’sssss what he offersssss, a reasssson to keep living.”

“Dad, please.” Anathema sounds desperate. “Crowley comes from money too. Has a lot of the same resources as Aziraphale.”

“Really?” Julian’s attention returns fully to the pissed off demon. “How do you make your money, Mr. Crowley?”

“None of your businessss.”

“Take off your glasses, Mr. Crowley.”

“Make me.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“You won’t like what you sssssee.”

Julian looks to Aziraphale while gesturing to Crowley. “You can’t hear how he slurs his words? Obviously high.”

“He has a speech impediment that appears when he’s upset.” Aziraphale tuts. “For the sake of your daughter and her lovely holiday meal, I think you need to stop.”

“Don’t tell me how I should and should not act around my daughter.” Before anyone can stop him, Julian lunges across the table and rips the Valentino shades from Crowley’s face. “I think I know better than anyo-…….Holy shit!”

“Not holy.” Crowley snaps his fingers stopping time. “We need to have a serious chat.”

* * *

**4 hours later**

Anathema isn’t entirely sure what happened, but she’s glad it did. One moment her entire gathering was falling apart and she was terrified her demon or angel friends might smite her father. Then in the next moment, everything changed.

Her father became friendly and agreeable. He was kind to Newt and her friends. In fact they spent the rest of their meal in amiable chatter and then the next three hours playing boardgames and sharing laughter.

Aziraphale and Crowley announced it was getting late and it would be best to begin their drive back to London. Anathema walks them to their car and pauses a few meters away as Crowley opens the passenger side door for Aziraphale.

“Thank you for whatever it is you did today.” Anathema folds her hands over her skirt and tilts her head to the side. “May I ask? What did you do?”

“If you’re worried if it’s permanent, it is. Your father has learned the errors of his ways.” Crowley smirks. “Just call it a little demonic miracle of my own.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale smiles brightly up at her from his rolled down window. “He’s very good at those.”


End file.
